Scissors
by YojoMaid
Summary: After a hard day, Matthew Williams just wants to calm down, but instead he's just going to get himself into more trouble with the way he wants to act it all out...  My first submission to Fanfiction, so the genre was hard to decide.


_**Note: This takes place in a **_**unhappy**_** FACE - France, America, Canada, England - family. If you do not like the idea of that, then go ahead and read something else.**_

* * *

"Nobody's at home?" he thought to himself, letting the heavy door close behind him.  
Well, that was just... PERFECT.  
He didn't have to climb into the house through the window this time - he had stolen some of the keys this morning - and to top it, nobody would do like last time, shout "A thief! Wait, Alfred, what are yo- just come in through the door will you?"  
This day had been one of the worse ones. When walking home, Matthew had passed some laughing children.  
It was snowy, and one of the kids pushed another, who in his turn crashed into Matthew who fell to the ground, face first, feeling his cheeks becoming red because of the cold.  
Did he get an apology? No. They just skipped around, pretending that nothing had happened. And so, he had decided to do what he would do when feeling this angry - which lately had been almost every day.  
Sometimes, he could hear Dad asking the others "Why do ze 'andkerchiefs disappear so quickly?" and the reason for them disappearing would be the younger one stealing them...

First he planned to take a snack - he was feeling hungry - when he saw a note on the stove.  
It was from dad to Dad. It said:  
- "Bloody git, this is why we shouldn'T have to cook for ourselves!"  
Matthew giggled a little. Arthur had never been even decent at cooking, and despite him being the one refusing their shared family in the first place... he was the one always wanting one person to cook for everyone. Especially Francis, he couldn't stand hamburgers and...  
The smile disappeared quickly at the sight of a second note on the fridge.  
"Hey Frankie n' that other person |D ! I'm just telling ya to expect me home late. Playing games with Kiku!"  
And that other person.  
It would all have been OK if it had said "Frankie, Artie, and that other person", but now it didn't.  
Could this day ever get worse?  
And so he hurried up the stairs.

He stood in the guest room that he called his own - he didn't even have an own room for heavens sake, so he had to take this one! - looking across the desk to see if the equipment necessary was to be found.  
It was. He took it in his hands, and sat down wearily on his bed.  
He had thought about doing this the day when Alfred told everybody at the dinner table about a new person he had heard about, called Kiskeya*.  
- "Apparently she thinks that they could be more like they originally were since she made them and she should know!"  
- "Which are ze 'they' that you speak about?" Francis had asked.  
- "It's like these small dolls that you can punish for things real people do to you of course! It's called Voodoo..." Alfred continued, only to have an discussion with Arthur whether or not the dolls really were her, because it was hardly a part of her original religion.  
And that made Canada wonder if they even had any dolls at home, so that evening he had searchd through the house. Only Alfred's wooden army that dad gave him a long time ago, and those were too precious.  
Thus he decided to start punishing paper, possibly after drawing something to represent what he was angry for.  
But this day there would be no picture.  
He let the scissors separate, then doing a sliding motion so that the paper would come between the teeth of his weapon. Then, slower than ever before, he let the paper get a cut, like a wound upon those who stood - and sometimes literally sat - on him.  
He continued doing this, until the paper was just small pieces barely sticking together, and then went to look for some matches.  
When he found them in his brother's room, he lit one of the matches, opened the window, stuck his arm with the paper out of the window, and let the paper blacken until his hands started to feel like they would burn. Then he dropped it down into the street.  
... oops. Alfred had apparently decided to go home sooner than expected, so he was almost hit by the fire. But still, that didn't matter, as one question moved through the younger one's head:  
- "Why ain't I satisfied**? Normally, only one piece would be enough..."  
Normally he would be filled with that kind of emptiness that he actually liked by now, but he still felt like actually hurting somebody...  
He just shrugged, though, and started anew, now with one of his brother's tissues - but making sure to run back into "his" room.  
He was just starting to become empty when he heard the knockings on the door followed by opening it.  
- "Hello? Anybody in there? Whoever it was that threw that burnin' thing of you two... That ain't funny!"  
Had he just heard it correctly? He REALLY thought there were only two people except him who lived there? How could he forget something that people thought looked so similar to him?  
Memories started to appear of him having something else to add for the fourteenth time of that meeting, making fun of others both un- and intentionally...  
THAT WAS IT. He was just too selfish to care about anybody who, like Matt would try to in the beginning, try to calm him down and make him stop becoming more popular both in the bad and good way.  
- "It's all his fault, isn't it, that I'm so invisible..? Then, what if I would..."  
Now Matt, who had almost been empty, felt like he would start to giggle any second. For once in a while, he planned to do something. A smile that he really meant appeared for the first time in forever, as the footsteps came closer and closer to the guest room and the man at the door said:  
- "... Wh-wh-who are you?"  
- "Me? Ahh... Sorry, my name is a bit hard for people like you to pronounce... I could write it here if you want, though, as you may want to remember it..." he started to fakely look for a pen on the desk, which made the brother walk closer to him and the desk.  
- "Haha, do you need new glasses or something? They're lying right there in the middle of the table! Also, what about this little teddybear? Is it yo- hey!"  
As Alfred had been saying all of that, Matthew had made his way to the door, locking it tightly.  
Starting to cut in the air with his scissors, the insane one said:  
- "Hey, Alfred F. Jones. Do you remember what you have said about... Voodoo dolls?"  
- "Bu-bu-but I don't even... How do you know my name?"  
- "You said that they are small dolls... that you can punish for things real people have done to you, eh?"  
Alfred started to shake, and without knowing what he could do to save himself, he grabbed the little white teddybear and started to hug it in a squeezy way.  
- "Do you realize... that you would make a great Voodoo?"

* * *

*As I don't think that Kaz made a Haiti, my version of her is now brought to the light.  
I checked for Haitian names on google and found some. This name apparently means "Mother of all lands", and dates back to the original indians on Haiti. I'd see her as spiritual and poor, and unlike Ukraine she actually can't work much of her land, but managing to survive through the help of the others.  
** I have checked, and "ain't" CAN be gramatically correct. The only case would be "I ain't", which people often mistake for "I aren't". Weird, huh? And before you say "But Al said that in the wrong way", that's because "ain't" is mostly used in America - or that's atleast my impression. So I figured that he'd overuse it too.


End file.
